


Alive

by wingstriker



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: FFXIV 2.0 spoilers, Gen, Praetorium Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingstriker/pseuds/wingstriker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently someone else decided it wasn't quite his time yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it could happen.

_“And so my conquest ends, Cid. In smoke and ashes…”_

He wakes up, somewhat disoriented. Hadn’t he died, surrounded in the flames of his charred husk of a base?

Yet, upon viewing the crystallized tree with plasmoids hovering nearby, he soon realized his error. _No…_ He had failed Solus, _failed his men,_ and most importantly… Failed himself. Disgust and loathing did not nearly describe the multitude of feelings that nearly overwhelmed him. Bad enough that he’d been tricked into Lahabrea’s scheming, but in a reckless bid to finally conquer Eorzea, his men had paid the price _in blood_.

It was so _very_ tempting to just let himself fall over the edge of the cliff to the crystalline wasteland below. To finish what should have been done in the destruction of Praetorium.

He blinks. Wait, how _did_ he arrive on this cliff to begin with? His eyes narrow. The loathsome emblem of The Scholar gleamed at him but did not offer any answers. He’d remember staring at the destruction of his base from the inside, but afterwards… Nothing.

Unease settles through him. He was no fool. Whomever ‘saved’ him must have had a purpose. Even the glorious Warrior of Light had his _own_ reasons for his altruistic actions. Was this his penance for entering a covenant with the Ascian?

He turns away from Thaliak’s symbol, and notes the people in the distance. Two thaumaturges, a lancer, and a gladiator of sorts. _A group of outcasts… Here? How fitting._

He needed answers, but to find them, he’d need a change of clothes. A way to disguise himself. _How **convenient** indeed._


	2. Chapter 2

Gaius sits on a crate in Revenant’s Toll, silently eating some soup and bread he managed to procure while observing the hustle and bustle of the newly established settlement. Clad in armor from the foes he recently defeated and a makeshift bandana to hide away his third eye, he blended in well with the rest of the adventurers. Well enough that no one gave him a second glance as he walked about, crates and stone still scattered around in obvious signs of construction.

As he ate, a group of adventurers, in what appeared to be some sort of spontaneous event, formed a circle around the Toll’s aetheryte while seated upon some of the most obese chocobos he had ever laid eyes upon. An eyebrow goes up. _**These** were the same adventurers that had defeated his Legion? What ridiculousness._

He arrived here to get answers, but it soon became obvious that there were none. Everyone assumed Gaius van Baelsar had perished, and had moved on. Recollections of the burning visage of his base to his arrival on the crystalline cliff gave no clues, no signs of who could have transported him from his death.

He finishes his meal, a glower visible on his face as he strode to an isolated spot for a nap. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. Some key that would illuminate the how and why he was alive. It was slipping away from him as the days passed, and he had the distinct sense that he may never find out. It gnawed upon him, this mystery, and he was _most_ unhappy about it.

He squats down, back to a stone wall before lowering himself to a sitting position, his sword close by in case some fool dared to disturb his rest. He had not seen his former ward yet. Admittedly, a part of him still wished to see Cid again even though Cid would likely recognize him and most likely have him arrested.

Or perhaps Cid would attempt to convince him to fight for Eorzea since returning to Garlemald was no longer an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

He scowls. Though he would like some time to recoup, it was too risky to stay in Revenant’s Toll due to Cid’s presence. He’d have to leave once he had the means to continue traveling. To where, he did not know, but it mattered little.

He closes eyes, welcoming the inky, black embrace of sleep.

* * *

He waits, biding his time for some fool to wander close to the resting ex-Legatus. Then, with an ease born from centuries of taking hosts, Lahabrea leaps from Gaius’ resting form into his new body. The poor soul within didn’t have a chance, and Lahabrea opened the eyes of his new host and grinned nastily.

He’d been too weak to flee properly after being forcibly exorcised from Thancred’s body. So in a desperate bid of self-preservation, he had taken Gaius as a temporary host and teleported to the Rathefrost.

He could have stayed in Gaius, possibly tormenting his puppet with his failures, but no. Gaius was old, and Lahabrea had no intention of staying in an old man’s body. Not when there were more youthful hosts to take. Not when Gaius had inadvertently destroyed his precious Ultima Weapon.

No. He needed a new host, and the one he’d just taken would do nicely. _After the failure he has brought to me and mine, he is fortunate I deigned to salvage his aging husk of flesh. Yet…_ He crosses his arms, his hand briefly resting under his chin as he contemplated killing Gaius here and now. To rid the stain of his failure and close any loose ends.

No. He had his own injuries to tend to. Perhaps Gaius would waste away the remainder of his meager life, forever agonized over his losses. Lahabrea shrugs as he teleports away. One can only hope.


End file.
